


Sort-Of Legacy

by EnEss_Caity



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:14:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24773719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnEss_Caity/pseuds/EnEss_Caity
Summary: A meeting of two enemies.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	Sort-Of Legacy

Revenant was not very often surprised. Today is the exception.

Because today, he finds himself with a sharp-ended pole rutted into his chest, the ‘wound’ is through and through. The end that entered him has gutted the wall to his back, effectively stationing him there. 

The silver wolf's head at the top of the staff, though, makes his eyes light up with interest. “Oh, it's you.” he croaks out. Sparks from interrupted wires in his chassis fill the silence until she appears in front of him. 

Loba materializes from thin air. Long twin braids swinging, showing the momentum she had gained hurrying to her prey. She takes a few steps to the simulacrum, noting that he is indeed not moving. 

He reaches forward and grabs her face, his long skeletal arm not even fully extended. He squeezes her jaw, feeling those fragile bones under the skin. Loba takes a second to steel herself, willing her body not to move an inch - though her skin scrawls from the cold metal touch. Even through her slight pain, she wears a mask of pure rage.

There's a chuckle from the robot, low and full of gravel, “I could crush your skull right now. Wouldn't be hard...”

“Then why don't you?” She taunts. There's no real hint that he wont take that bait, other than the fact he hasn't done it yet. She takes her chances. 

“Not sure.” He muses, adjusting his grip from less pressure to  _ much _ more, then back to none. 

“Maybe I like having you as evidence that I exist. Pesky memories keep getting modified. Maybe you’re… my version of the one that got away.”

“Demonio.” she spits back. Faster than she could help herself. His golden optics do a thoughtful flicker, the aperture adjusting behind the pseudo-irises. When he speaks next, you can hear the smile that would be on his lips.

“Look at you. This thing of hate I've created. A sort-of Legacy.”

She finally jerks her head away from his hand, acid in her heart and on her words, “You’ve never created ANYTHING. You certainly did NOT create anything as good as me. You’ve only ever taken and broken and destroyed.” Her snarl sneaks onto her lips, “You’ve got a trail of bodies that is centuries old. Did you count them? Did you even care to do that?”

She takes both hands to the pole sticking out of his chest, firmly shoving it further into the wall. “Utterly hateful. You deserve this torture … of being alive... forever”

His eyes change, now colder than ever - no hint of ever once finding this amusing. She steps away when she's confident that he's speared through and not moving. 

Loba easily breaks the glass of a nearby vending machine, finds an old bottle of - ew - something orange-juice-like. She twists the cap off and dumps it down the back of the simulacrum - successfully causing the live wires in the walls he's pinned against to shoot electricity into his cracked chassis. Even through the static she can tell he's screaming at first, but the voicebox shorts out after a moment or two. 

She places her boot to his abdomen and yanks her staff from his twitching and sparking body. Unloading a careful shot to the back of his head, the thunderous KLUNK of the robot’s deathbox echoes through the room. 

“Let’s do this again sometime.” 


End file.
